Mr NotSo Nice Guy
by remuslives23
Summary: -'So. Death Eater. What was she doing with me? Not that I'm not charming company, but I suspect it wasn't my witty banter and very fine arse she was interested in.' First in the 'War Is Hell' crossover series.


**Title:** Mr (Not-So) Nice Guy**  
Series: **War Is Hell (First in the series)  
**Author:** **remuslives23**  
**Pairings/Characters:** Jack Harkness/Alastor Moody; mentioned Bellatrix LeStrange  
**Rating:** NC17  
**Summary:** 'So. Death Eater. What was she doing with me? Not that I'm not charming company, but I suspect it wasn't my witty banter and very fine arse she was interested in. Shame. She looked like fun – up until she killed me, that is.'  
**Contains:** Rough wall!sex, language  
**Word count:** 3177  
**Author's notes:** Harry Potter/Torchwood crossover. Set during the first wizarding war (in the 1980's). Prequel to 'In Which Ianto Explores The Accuracy of Werewolf Mythology'. You don't need to have read it first – just know that there was a reference to Jack and Moody possibly being lovers in the past. Written for **werewolfsfan** for her donation to Queensland Flood Relief and because she's all round awesome and it took far too long for me to get my act together to do this for her.  
**Beta:** **dogsunderfoot**!  
**Disclaimer:**This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Jack Harkness' head slammed into the brick wall behind him, pain exploding in his brain upon impact before everything went dark.

It felt like only seconds later that his eyes snapped back open as he sucked in a noisy breath that filled his empty lungs. Dazed, he shook his head and struggled to his feet, bracing himself against the wall that had cracked open his skull. His hand automatically went to his ear to contact Torchwood to request back up, but his ear piece was gone. Instead, his fingers met a mess of congealed blood clumping his hair together.

'Damn it,' he muttered then he heard the crunch of footsteps as someone made their way up the filthy alley. Jack reached for his Webley, cocking it slowly, carefully, and, as he pressed himself closer to the wall, he began to piece together the minutes before the earlier attack.

He'd never seen a weapon like the one the dark-haired woman he'd been on the verge of screwing in the alley had used against him. It looked like a stick of wood, but had shot a green jet of light that Jack had been unable to avoid. What sort of technology was it? It certainly wasn't Earth-based, and he was reasonably sure Torchwood had nothing similar listed in their archives. Not that Jack had spent a lot of time perusing the filing cabinets. The only reason he knew Torchwood _had_archives was because he followed the pretty red-headed archivist with the beautiful cock-sucking lips down there one day for a quick mutual stress relieving exercise.

Jack stiffened when he heard a grunt then he swore as his Webley slipped from his grasp. It flew across the alley and into the hand of the shadowy figure by the bins belonging to the Chinese restaurant Jack had been eating in with his brunette attacker not ten minutes earlier.

'Guns,' a gravelly London accented voice muttered. 'Bloody Muggles.'

Jack's stomach twisted with annoyance rather than fear. He'd been disarmed. And so quickly and easily. Oh, he had to make sure he got to the CCTV for this alley before Alex did or he'd never hear the end of it. Jack inhaled deeply then plastered a wide smile on his face as he raised his hands in surrender.

'Okay,' he said loudly, taking a step away from the wall. 'You got me.' His smile morphed into a leer. 'Now, what _are_you going to do with me? I have a list of suggestions.'

There was no verbal response, but the figure shifted, moving slowly out into the dim light cast from the streetlights. Jack's smile wavered when he saw the ragged scars littered across the very human face, the deep gouges that marked the hand that held aloft the same strange weapon his dinner partner had attacked him with earlier. And it was pointed directly at Jack's chest; no waver in the firm grip, no hesitation or uncertainty in the stance that indicated the other man was anything but proficient with the weapon. Jack took one look at the steely glint of cold determination in the man's brown eyes and saw himself. This man was dangerous. This man would kill without a second thought.

God, nothing made Jack harder faster than a powerful being pointing a weapon in his direction.

'Captain Jack Harkness,' he said, hungrily eyeing the other man's solid build. 'And who are you?'

The man scowled, mumbled something in what sounded like Latin under his breath, and suddenly, Jack couldn't move. The man approached, giving Jack a mocking once-over. 'I'm Alastor Moody, Captain,' he said with a curl of his lip. 'And you, my son, are in deep, deep Hippogryff shit.'

He grabbed Jack's frozen arm and spun, and Jack silently screamed in helpless fury as his body dissolved into atoms.

* * *

When Jack opened his eyes, the first thing he became vividly aware of was the overwhelming need to vomit. He retched, bending in two as that night's dinner splattered all over the grubby concrete floor.

'Merlin's left ball, watch the cloak, man!'

Jack groaned and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. 'What the hell did you do?' he rasped out, throat raw.

'More to the question, what did you do to attract the attention of the Dark Lord's right hand witch?'

Jack looked up at the scarred man, his brow furrowing in confusion. 'Dark Lord?' he repeated, slowly straightening. 'Never heard of that species. I've got a Time Lord, but if you can find him, you're a better man than me...'

The other man's stony face twitched then he brought the weapon up fast and ground out two words.

'_Avada Kedavra_.'

Jack barely had time to register a green flash of light before he died for the second time that evening.

* * *

Jack gasped as he jerked back into life on a cold, cement floor. He stared up at the grey ceiling for a moment, orientating himself, then tried to hide his surprise when a voice close by said, 'You can't die.'

'I can die,' Jack wheezed then coughed to clear his throat. 'It just doesn't take.' He glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye and grinned. 'Did you give me the kiss of life? Shame I missed it, if you did. Care to give me a repeat...?'

The pointed end of the stick weapon – he really had to give it a good name – jammed hard into the soft flesh of Jack's throat. 'What are you?' the man asked harshly. 'What spell is this?'

Jack's smile faded and he slumped back onto the floor. 'I... don't know,' he answered, hating the defeat evident in his voice, but too tired to hide it. 'I don't know what I am and if it was a spell that did this to me, I'd really appreciate it being lifted.' He rolled his head to the side to stare at the man squatting beside him. Close up, Jack could see he was younger than he'd first thought – early-thirties, perhaps - but hardened by his experiences, by life. He was a fellow soldier. 'Who are you? And what sort of weapon is that?'

The man eyed him suspiciously then the pressure on Jack's throat eased. 'Alastor Moody,' the man grunted, his sharp gaze not leaving Jack's face for a moment. 'And you had a lucky escape, Harkness. I suspect there was some... miscommunication in regards to your little party trick otherwise you'd be in a far less comfortable situation right now.'

'Oh, I'm always very comfortable on my back.'

Moody's jaw clenched then he abruptly pushed himself to his feet. 'It's a wand,' he said, narrowing his eyes, daring Jack to disagree.

Jack raised an eyebrow. 'A _magic_wand?'

Moody flicked the stick at him and Jack was unceremoniously yanked to his feet by an invisible hand.

'Yes,' said Moody, straight-faced as Jack stumbled. 'A magic wand. Got a problem with that?'

Jack blinked as he regained his equilibrium then cleared his throat. 'No. Thanks,' he said, glad his disorientation wasn't obvious in his voice. He made a production of brushing off his clothing, taking some time to let the information fit into place. 'So you're a...?'

'Wizard.'

'Ah. And that woman I had dinner with who I thought was being all mysterious and adventurous by not giving me her name...?'

'Witch.'

Jack clicked his tongue in exasperation as his fingers found a burn on his greatcoat. 'Not the word I'm inclined to call her, but it's certainly similar. Do you know how hard it is to get scorch marks out of wool?'

'She was a Death Eater. Bellatrix LeStrange. One of the Dark Lord's most faithful.'

Jack poked at a tear in his sleeve. 'I'm guessing he's some kind of evil megalomaniac that you – the dashing hero...' he gave an unmoved Moody a wink, 'is trying to defeat.'

'Sounds about right,' Moody muttered, glaring at Jack. 'You're taking this calmly for a Muggle.'

Jack looked offended. 'Muggle?'

'Non-magical person,' Moody told him, and Jack grinned.

'Alastor, I can't die, I've travelled through time and space in a space ship that looks like a 1950's police box, and I hunt aliens for a living. Finding out magic is real... not the biggest revelation of my life.'

A tightening of his lips was all the outwardly sign Moody revealed of being surprised, and Jack cocked his head. 'Now you're the one who is spookily calm.'

'I'm not easily shocked.'

'Bet I could shock you, Alastor.'

'I seriously doubt it.'

Jack snorted out a laugh and smoothed his hands over his lapels. 'So. Death Eater. What was she doing with me? Not that I'm not charming company, but I suspect it wasn't my witty banter and very fine arse she was interested in. Shame. She looked like fun – up until she killed me, that is.'

Moody looked thoughtful. 'We heard that they'd found something big, some new, irreversible magic that could give the Dark Lord immortality – that's why I've been tracking LeStrange - but I didn't expect...'

He cut himself off as Jack looked up, a smirk on his face. '... someone like me,' he finished with a suggestive quirk of his lip before purring, 'I am unique in many ways, Alastor. I'd be more than happy to show you.'

The flirting came naturally; he did it instinctively, forgetting where and when he was, and he was half-expecting this man to sock him in the jaw (the twentieth century was still _sooo_uptight). What he didn't expect was the blatantly sexual once over Moody gave him, the languid trail those dark eyes seared from his face to his toes and back again. When their gazes connected once more, Moody smirked then turned away.

'I suspect the fact you do actually die saved your backside tonight,' he said, leaning against the back of the chair Jack had fallen out of earlier. 'We all heard that there was a spell that could give you immortality, not one that raised you from the dead. When the Unforgivable killed you, I'm guessing LeStrange thought she'd been led down the garden path. I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.' He shrugged. 'Wouldn't like to be in whoever sold her that information's shoes tonight.'

'Mm,' murmured Jack as he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. He watched Moody's eyes flick down to the emphasised bulge of his crotch and his blood began to flow faster. 'So, you're one of the nice guys?'

Moody didn't answer, simply giving a small shrug of a shoulder as Jack took slow, predatory steps towards him.

'But you killed me without being certain I'd come back.'

Moody nodded. 'Yeah.'

Jack stopped in front of Moody, so close he could feel the heated anticipation rising off the other man's skin. 'The nice guys don't usually kill for funsies, do they?' he asked with an arched brow.

Moody pushed off the chair and straightened, his body brushing lightly against Jack's. He tipped his head back to look the taller man in the eye and said, 'I'm not always a very nice guy.'

They were still for a long, tense moment. Jack felt the thrill of battle warming his blood. Moody wasn't going to back down, wasn't going to be the one to make the first move, no matter how his skin itched and his pupils dilated under the onslaught of Jack's fifty-first century pheromones. He wouldn't be the one to break, which meant that, if Jack didn't want to walk away with blue balls and a cock hard enough to cut diamonds, he'd have to be the one to back down.

'Fuck it,' he muttered, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Moody's light brown hair and dragging him in for a kiss.

Moody came to life under Jack's lips, hands gripping and pulling, teeth biting and scraping as he unapologetically took what he wanted. As Moody's tongue thrust demandingly into Jack's mouth, his hands were shoving the heavy coat from his shoulders, letting it slide down Jack's body to land with a soft _whump_on the floor. He wrapped his thick fingers around Jack's braces and jerked him forward and around, shoving him up against the plain brick wall of the sparse room.

Jack, his body aching with the perfect combination of lust and pain, sank a hand into Moody's hair and yanked his head back. He bit down hard on the salty skin of his throat, sucking until the skin in his mouth was hot and throbbing then he lapped at the injured flesh. A groan slipped from Moody's lips, and Jack grinned against his jaw.

'I'm not very nice either,' he murmured then hissed in surprise as Moody grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

Teeth bit at Jack's nape, tugging on the skin until jolts of pain sparked along Jack's spine. His cock twitched violently in his trousers and Jack thrust his hips back to meet Moody's, unashamedly rubbing his arse over the hard ridge of the other man's erection.

'Bastard,' Moody rasped out, hands deftly unbuckling Jack's belt, and Jack laughed.

'Get your cock out and stop fucking around,' he retorted then hissed as calloused fingers wound around his shaft and squeezed. Hard.

'God, yes,' Jack whispered, rocking his hips forward into the tight sleeve of Moody's fingers. Moody swiped the rough pad of his thumb over the sensitive head of Jack's cock then flicked his fingernail over the slit. Jack's hips jerked at the sharp sensation and Moody chuckled, low, smooth sound dripping like honey down Jack's spine before another spike of pleasure-pain speared through him as Moody jerked him off hard and fast.

'Lube in my trouser pocket,' Jack choked out, eyes closing as his balls pulled up tight against his body. 'Fuck me. Now.'

Moody's hand on his cock stilled and Jack whimpered in protest. His arse clenched in anticipation as Moody fumbled in his trouser pocket for the lube, his fingers wandering over Jack's quivering sac. Moody snorted. 'Eager, aren't you?'

'Less talk, more fucking,' Jack snapped.

Moody tugged viciously on his balls, Jack biting back a yelp, then shoved Jack's trousers down to pool around his ankles. 'Look at you,' Moody whispered, shoving Jack's shirt up to bunch under his arms. 'You're so pretty when you're needy, when you're wanting.' Two blunt fingers pushed inside Jack's arse and Jack moaned as he bore down on them. 'I should make you wait,' Moody said, his voice soft and dangerous as he stretched Jack wide open. 'I should fuck you right here until I come then leave you hard and wet and fucking desperate.' A third finger was followed swiftly by a fourth and Jack was bucking his hips frantically. Moody's breathing was coming fast, his voice strained, then the hand that was around Jack's cock was gone and the grating of Moody's zipper was loud in the otherwise silent room.

'Next time,' Moody rasped out, the head of his cock kissing Jack's hole briefly before he breached him with one short, fast thrust.

Jack swore under his breath at the burning slide of Moody's cock. It had been so long since he'd done this. Why had it been so long? He'd forgotten how it felt to feel like he was about to split apart, like he was being pushed past his limits and he had to reach for moremoremore.

Moody pulled out and pushed ruthlessly back in, giving Jack no time to adjust before settling into a ruthless, pounding rhythm. His fingers dug bruisingly into Jack's hips, their balls slapping together in a stinging collision with each brutal thrust. Moody grunted as he fucked Jack into the wall, beads of sweat shaking off his brow to scatter on Jack's bare lower back. Jack reared back to meet every plunge, twisting around to peer over his shoulder as Moody's thumbs pulled Jack's buttocks apart and watched himself sliding in and out of Jack's stretched hole. Moody's eyelashes fluttered before closing on a hoarse moan of pure lust, his next thrust faster, wilder, nailing Jack's prostate and making him howl. Jack's fingers scrabbled at the rough brick wall in front of him as powerful ripples of almost unbearable pleasure juddered through him again and again and again...

It was punishing, and it was perfect, and as soon as Moody's hand closed around his dick, Jack came with a harsh cry that sounded as though it had been ripped forcibly from his lungs. Moody groaned and gasped out, 'Oh, Godric!' as he buried himself entirely inside Jack, hips twitching as his orgasm pulsed through him.

Moody was short, but he was sturdily built and Jack grunted in complaint as the other man collapsed against him, pushing him against the wall. The edge of the brick scraped over Jack's sensitised cock and he reached back to push Moody off him. The softening cock slipped out of his arse with a soft squelch then Moody moaned contentedly as he slid bonelessly down the wall to the floor. Jack made an attempt at a smirk, but was too repleted to put his usual level of smug into it. His legs wobbled under him so he gracelessly sank down to sit beside Moody.

'Bloody hell,' Moody mumbled, eyes still closed, and Jack made a noise of agreement. They sat in companionable silence for a minute, until their breathing evened out and blood stopped pounding, then – as one – they looked at each other.

'So,' Jack said, the corner of his lip curling up. 'You said something about next time?'

Moody chuckled then, with a heavy sigh, pushed himself to his feet and reached for his fly. 'I don't do... relationships. No cosy dinners, no pillow talk. I'm not interested in how your day went, and I sure as hell ain't gonna tell you about mine. We fuck. That's it.'

He frowned as Jack held up a hand then rolled his eyes before helping him to his feet. 'Think you can handle that. Captain?'

Jack grinned as he tidied his clothes then bent to snatch up his coat. 'Sounds perfect,' he replied with a wink.

He pulled out a business card and handed it to Moody. 'Til next time,' he said then his smile widened. 'I'm looking forward to seeing what else your wand can do.'

Moody stared at him in stunned disbelief then shook his head, pocketing the card. 'Bloody Muggles,' he growled before pulling out his wand. 'Next time, Harkness, I'm going to see if that mouth of yours is as clever as you think it is.'

Jack barked out a laugh and opened his mouth to retort, but Moody raised his wand and turned on the spot... and then he was gone.

Jack raised his eyebrows, impressed, then pulled his coat on. He froze suddenly, looking around the unfamiliar room then yelled, 'Oi! How the hell do I get out of here?'

fin.


End file.
